


John Seed Presents: The Power of Yes (A John Seed Production)

by asemic



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemic/pseuds/asemic
Summary: “People, people.” John clapped his hands and called for attention. Dozens of eyes focused on him and all conversation petered out. He took a sharp, refreshing breath and steepled his elegant fingers. “I have planned this to the letter in my head and I need all of you to bring my vision to life.”A behind-the-scenes of the production of John Seed's Welcome to Eden's Gate commercial.





	John Seed Presents: The Power of Yes (A John Seed Production)

“People, people.” John clapped his hands and called for attention. Dozens of eyes focused on him and all conversation petered out. He took a sharp, refreshing breath and steepled his elegant fingers. “I have planned this to the letter in my head and I need all of you to bring my vision to life.” He turned to the most attentive member of his entourage and smiled. “They are the best for this, correct?”

“Yes, John. We have two people with editing and production experience thanks to the local community college. And there is at least one who has acting experience.” Gillian flipped through her clipboard and pulled out a headshot. “Thoughts?”

“Again, this is the best we can do? Eh.” John made an indecisive sound and flicked his eyes between the clean cut image and the bearded man who stood before him. “Well, I guess we can use him as an extra.” He waved his hand dismissively and the man in need of a shower sulked slightly as he slinked away. “This is about me after all. The Power of Yes.”

**

“No! No no no no no,” John stalked over to the set and shoved the ladder aside. The man balanced precariously on the very top rung let out a startled noise then crashed into a heap. “That is the size of the letters? Really?”

He thrust his thumb at the sign and spluttered. Words failed him. John Seed lacked the ability to describe how utterly pissed he was. Instead he used his actions and tossed his radio as hard as he could. Another man collapsed and groaned, clutching his head. His assistant ran over and picked it up then dashed back to her place beside John. 

“Those are your measurements.” Gillian handed him the design sheet complete with his initials and the little smiley face he included with things he liked. He examined it and frowned. Noted the smiley face and glowered before crumpling it up. She knew that would happen. Quickly she made a note to put the three copies she printed in the “John Dislikes” cabinet. 

“Call the builders. I want it big. I want everyone to look at this and say,” he extended his arms wide in front of him and smiled. 

“Yes?” She offered tentatively. He blinked and sighed. 

“I was going to say ‘wow’ as in ‘wow can you believe the size of that word’, but I’ll accept your enthusiasm.”

John walked away and Gillian leaned over the man on the floor. “I think you did a great job, but impress him. I mean, think ridiculous. I’ll get someone over to check on you.” 

He groaned and stayed under the ladder for a little while longer. 

**

“I’m thinking something a bit motivating.” John paced in front of the composer. “Think inspiring. Think calming. Just think of me.”

He patted her on the shoulder and left the room. The composer waved and waited a beat before turning to Gillian. “Far be it from me to question John’s opinions,” she prefaced, “but did he notice that big blood stain on his shirt?”

Gillian made a noise. “He had a trying morning,” she said with zero smoothness. Yes, he noticed judging by the amount of empty detergent pens she found scattered on her desk.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure.” She laughed with an edge of hysteria. “I really don’t want to die.”

Gillian joined in the laughter, hers more of a dull chuckle than the full body shudder. She clutched her clipboard to her chest and let out a breath. “This’ll be great. It’ll be great.”

**

John glared at the sign then the builder. 

Sign. 

Builder. 

Sign. 

“I like it. This is a good direction. A positive step forward, Brad.”

“Tim, sir.”

“But I’m thinking lights. In case we film in dusk. Picture the sun setting over yonder and then illuminated above us the word ‘YES’.”

“The set is built north, not west.”

“Get on the ladder, Bill.”

“Tim, sir.”

“Climb. And after you pick yourself up off the ground, remember that I want lights and the very real option of dusk filming.”

John shoved the ladder. 

**

“Hm.”

John switched between the nearly pressed shirts, eyes focused on his reflection. “The blue is classic, but the red. Now, the red brings out a new dimension to my features.” He angled his chin and made a sound. “Thoughts?”

Gillian shifted nervously. “The blue,” she began then caught the slight droop in his shoulders. He gave the red shirt a bit of a shake and pouted slightly. “But the red looks fantastic. Your eyes pop.” 

_Plus, it’ll hide the blood stains better,_ she noted. 

“They do, don’t they?” He smiled broadly. “But. I know my followers hate change and I don’t want them to feel awkward around my new look.”

He tossed the red shirt behind him and moved to his closet. “Next is the the hardest decision we’ll make during the next few hours.” He slid the door open and Gillian faced twenty of the same colored pants. “Slim fit of slightly fitted? Hm or _hmmm?_ ”

It was going to be a long day. 

 

**

The composer waited a moment for John’s signal and hit play. 

John shut his eyes and rested against the desk, took in the melody created just for him. Gillian liked it. Slightly wistful, but optimistic. Upbeat, emphasizing yet not distracting. She hovered her pen over her clipboard, ready to capture whatever thoughts he had. When it finished, she and the composer leaned forward and waited for his response. 

“I know I tend to say this word a lot, but yes.” The composer visibly relaxed and gave a quick fist pump before catching herself. “Send the file over to the A/V guys. Once it’s filmed we’ll put it together.”

He gave her a final approving nod and left the room. The composer collapsed forward over her desk and moaned a prayer of thanks to the Father for providing. Gillian dropped a hand on hers and gave a quick squeeze. “Here’s the flash drive. By the way, you have puke in your hair. He didn’t notice.”

**

“Now, that was what I wanted all along!”

Gillian referred to the original drawing and stared up at the sign. Massive letter with fat, round bulbs. Nowhere near what he had, but it didn’t matter because John was happy. He lifted his clasped hands to his face and made a satisfied noise. 

“Finally, you see what we do when we set our minds to it? We can conquer the world by saying,” he pointed to the sign and everyone said it for him. “Exactly. Oooh, I like that. Everyone say yes again.”

They did, over and over for at least a minute before he waved them quiet. “I’m using that in the video. My idea, do not steal.” He laughed then let his face drop. “Seriously. Gillian?”

“Your vision, John.” 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a monologue to memorize.”

John began to leave and noticed Bill-Brad-Tim clutching the top of the ladder with all his strength. He slyly reached for the ladder and gave it a little shake, a playful smile on his face before he turned to leave the set. The man looked confused and glanced at Gillian.

“Do...do I fall now?”

**

“Everyone, find your marks.” John barked into his megaphone as if the people circling him would be able to hear. Gillian clutched her free hand to her ear as it let out a pitched shriek. “Your marks, people. That’s where you stand!”

The extras quickly moved to their places.

“I’m going to walk among you, a pillar of strength for our community. When you see me, you’ll appreciate being a chosen, valued member of Eden’s Gate.” He stood and moved to his position, still speaking into his megaphone. “And don’t be afraid to do a bit of improv. For example, if I guide you, feel free to nod or visually express hope for our future. But not too much. You don’t want to draw too much focus from me.”

He shoved out the megaphone and Gillian ran over to snatch it. “Hey, Gill, I don’t need a copy, I’ve got it all up here.” He tapped his temple. She didn’t doubt him since she had to listen to him for the past two days as he perfected it. “We’ll run it through around eight times or so. Gillian, I need this to be dead on. If you see any one miss a mark, jot down a note.” 

John grasped her wrists and made a very serious face. She learned that the best response was to give him one back, with just slightly less intensity to not overshadow him. “I will. Pen in hand, paper ready.”

“Good. Megaphone, please.” She held it to his mouth and he barked one last order before he dashed to his spot. “Let's make history, people!”

**

“Where’s Hudson?” John hissed over the radio and Gillian stayed far away from him just in case he decided to launch the walkie talkie. “I told you I needed her for the final take because I wanted real fear in her eyes!”

There was an extended pause and then faint crackle of static. “So, you’re ready for her then? Over.”

John set his jaw then and made an attempt to find some serenity. The birds overhead, the scent of flowers in the air. The understanding that he would have the name of this idiot and some down time after they got this thing in the can. _Yeah,_ Gillian thought. _That poor bastard was not going to live that long._

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready for her. Out.” He squeezed his hand around the radio and handed it gently to Gillian. “Make sure that Hudson gets passed to someone who isn’t such a moron. Also, I want his name.”

“Already have that down.” She pointed to her clipboard and he leaned to get a better look. He snatched her pen from the holder and made a little smiley face next to her neat writing. “Oh, thank you.”

“More for me than you, but consider it shared. Okay people, this is the real thing. I know we’ve been working for the past few hours and you must be tired. But, trust me. When this rolls out across the Holland Valley you will know that you succeeded in creating a living, breathing document of our power. Even you, Bill-Brad.” He gave him a wink and moved to his mark. 

Gillian watched as Hudson was hauled blindfolded and tripping along the path. Perfect. She couldn’t help but let a satisfied smile cross her lips. This will lure that fucking Deputy in. She was sure of it.

**

_You've reached John Seed's office. Please leave your name, your number, and a brief message and he will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you._

_Beep_

“Hey, John. I had a chance to watch that message you created for that Deputy. Not bad. A bit flashy, but it worked. Sorry I couldn’t be there, but I was breaking in a new assistant. You know how it is. Great job, Johnny. Call me whenever you have the chance.”

_Beep_

“I wish you had called me about your plans. I would have given you some henbane to decorate the trellises. You should be proud of your work, but I know you are already. Goodbye, John.”

_Beep_

“At first I was worried that this wouldn’t have been an appropriate use of your resources. But the final product was impressive. I believe that the Deputy will come visit you soon. Thank you for your work.”

**

“Gillian,” John punched her arm and handed her a bottle of water. The wrap party was less a party and more a quiet gathering featuring the two of them. Man, she missed alcohol; sparkling water didn't cut it. “Excellent job. I know I put a lot of pressure on you and everyone else, but I am a perfectionist.”

She nodded and hoped he understood it was for him being a perfectionist and not...she stopped nodding and took a quick gulp of her drink. 

“So, why don’t you take the next two days off. Go fish or whatever you do when you aren’t...here.” He trailed off and she gave him a quick smile. 

“John,” she pointed to the awl he had left on her desk. He raised his fists and gave her two quick finger guns. Bang. Bang. “If you need me-”

“Please. I think I could handle things around here for a little while. I”m pretty good at my job. Now, what was that asshole’s name?”

“George. He has a slight peanut allergy and is afraid of spiders.” She accepted the impressed look he threw her. “Yeah, we’re both pretty good at this.”

“Yes, we are.” John waved and left the room. She turned off her desk lamp and started to whistle. 

_Oh John, bold and brave._


End file.
